Audrey found herself looking forward to Sunday dinner with Cameron’s mom, Pamela. Not only was the woman a breath of fresh air who wasn’t afraid to give her son a hard time, but also her presence gave Audrey a reprieve. Ever since their strange talk the night before, Audrey found she didn’t know what to say around Cameron or how to act around him. She felt like a high schooler who’d just admitted she had a crush on a boy.
To make matters worse, Cameron had spent the better part of the afternoon giving her lingering looks and teasing the panties off her. Figuratively, of course.
Since Pamela had cooked the last time, Audrey had insisted on making the dinner. Cameron looked like he’d been about to have a heart attack when Audrey announced she was going to make pot roast with potatoes and carrots. Their bickering about how to cook had started that morning when Cameron insisted the roast would be better in the oven so it could be basted in a Dutch oven. Since Audrey didn’t even know what the hell a Dutch oven was, and scolded her hormones for jumping all over the place, she’d placed the meal in a Crock-Pot. The vein in Cameron’s forehead looked like it had been about to burst when she’d refused to let him “check” on the meal. And by “check” she knew he meant take over because he didn’t trust anyone else in the kitchen.
“You should probably check those vegetables,” he told her as he began the preparations for the gravy.
The only reason she was allowing him to help was because he’d insisted. She hadn’t been able to stop him from clattering a skillet on the stove and making the stuff.
“The vegetables are fine,” she reassured him, but gave the Crock-Pot a peek just in case. Yeah, they still looked good.
“How long has it been since you’ve basted the roast?” he asked her.
“Cameron, will you leave the woman alone?” Pamela scolded her son. “I’m sure she’s capable of cooking her own meal without your interference.”
Audrey resisted the urge to stick her tongue out and swore she heard him mutter, “Not happening” under his breath.
“That gravy doesn’t look like it’s thick enough,” she told Cameron.
Pamela hid a smile behind her wineglass.
Cameron lifted a brow. “It’ll be plenty thick. You’re not supposed to add the flour all at once.”
“And you haven’t put enough drippings in it,” she pressed, because…well, because she wanted to.
Cameron set his spoon down and turned to face Audrey. Behind them, Pamela muttered, “Uh-oh.”
“You want to come over here so I can show you how it’s done right?”
Audrey opened her mouth, then had the feeling he wasn’t talking about gravy. His question had too much of a seductive tone. For a second she thought about taking him up on his offer, but with an audience, she knew it would be a bad idea. She didn’t want to give Pamela the wrong impression about their relationship. She didn’t want to give her false hope.
Or maybe you’re more worried about giving yourself false hope?
No, that definitely wasn’t it.
She gestured toward the gravy. “Just make sure it has plenty of flavor. I like my gravy meaty.”
Cameron lifted a brow as though to say, Thought so.
“I see you finally patched up the curtains, Cam,” his mother said.
Cameron tossed another spoonful of flour into the gravy. “Actually, Audrey fixed those,” he said casually, as though she had the right to go around mending his things.
“How nice,” Pamela beamed. “And I’m assuming you sewed up the pillows too?”
The throw pillows on Cameron’s couch had been coming apart at the seams. The only reason why Audrey had fixed them was because she got tired of hearing him complain about constantly having to restuff them.
Yeah, that’s why.
“Just trying to show my gratitude for Cameron letting us stay here.”
Cameron snorted and muttered, “Bullshit” under his breath.
Pamela nodded, but Audrey had the feeling she didn’t buy Audrey’s lame reason. Hell, Audrey didn’t buy it either.
“And are you also responsible for the ceiling fans suddenly being dust free?” Pamela prodded.
Okay, Audrey had spent a day over here doing some housework. So sue her. Piper had been at school, and Audrey had had a few hours to herself. So she’d let herself in the back door, sewn the tear in the curtains, patched the throw pillows, and dusted the fans. She’d also vacuumed, mopped, and polished the furniture. Cameron may have been wicked in the kitchen, but he was a lousy housekeeper. Audrey hadn’t minded; tidying up Cameron’s house had felt so domestic.
“Yeah, that was me,” she finally answered. When both of Pamela’s brows lifted, Audrey rushed to explain more. “I was just giving the place some TLC. No big deal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Audrey saw Cameron slant her a look, but she refused to glance his way. She didn’t want him to see how important it had been for her to show her gratitude even though she’d still been pissed at him.
“Well, I think the place looks good,” Pamela commented instead of calling Audrey out on her bullshit. “Who knows what Cam will do without you when you leave.”
Audrey paused with her water bottle halfway to her mouth. She forced herself to drink just as Cameron cleared his throat while he stirred the gravy. Yeah, he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to say, or how to look, or how to act.
The impulsive side of her wanted to stroke a hand over his shoulder and reassure him that he didn’t need to be tense around her, that he hadn’t screwed anything up, that she wanted to finish their conversation and maybe explore things further. But she didn’t want to scare him off, so she decided to wait a few more days.
“By the way, you’re out of soda,” Pamela announced. “Do you have a grocery list I can add it to?”
“There’s a pad of paper in the drawer,” Audrey jumped in. She barely resisted slapping a hand over her mouth as Pamela stared at her and Cameron smirked. Funny how she’d come to know Cameron’s house so easily, how she moved from one room to the next, picking up his shoes and placing them by the front door so he wouldn’t forget them, making sure the newspaper got brought in before it rained, because she knew he liked to read it at the kitchen counter.
When had they fallen into such a comfortable routine?
“Okay,” Pamela said slowly. “Thanks.” But when she opened the drawer, her actions froze. “Um, Cameron?” she said, and she reached a hand in the drawer and pulled out about a dozen yellow Post-it notes. Every single note Audrey and Cameron had left for each other over the past two months. “Are you planning on doing some scrapbooking?”
Audrey damn near spit out her water and just barely managed to get the stuff down. She noticed Cameron only offered his mom a quick glance, then went back to his gravy. He probably thought he could shrug off the fact that he’d saved every Post-it she’d written him, but the way his hand tightened around the spoon gave him away.
He hadn’t wanted anyone to find those. But if not, why had he placed them in a drawer that he knew she sometimes opened?
“Audrey insists on leaving me notes everywhere,” he explained, though it wasn’t much of an explanation.
Pamela dropped the notes and continued her search for the pad of paper. “Yes, but why have you saved all of them?”
The kitchen was silent for a moment, with Audrey staring into her bottle of water and Cameron stirring the gravy to a slow death. Pamela bounced a look between Audrey and Cam, slowly picking up on…whatever the hell was going on in here.
She shut the drawer. “I think I’ll go outside and check on Piper.”
Pamela slipped out the back door, leaving the two of them alone.
“I think the gravy needs more flour,” Audrey said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
“Don’t start,” Cameron warned.
Audrey bit back a grin when she saw him toss a pinch of flour into the pan. She silently sipped her water for a moment while listening to Piper squeal in the backyard. “So, are we going to talk about it?” she pressed.
Heat bloomed across her stomach when Cameron grinned. “You mean the fact that I saved every note you’ve ever written?”
She pointed at him. “Yeah, that.”
“I only did that because I knew people wouldn’t believe me when I tell them you only communicate via Post-its.”
“Funny.”
Cameron set the spoon down and turned to face her. “Okay, you want to know why?” When she nodded while swallowing past the lump in her throat, he went on. “I wanted to have something to remember you by when you leave.”
Oh. Oh.
“I was thinking maybe I could cradle them in my lap while I watch The Notebook.”
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. What had she expected? “Now you’re just being an ass.”
He turned back to his gravy. “Yep.”
She came closer and set her water bottle on the counter. “No, but seriously. Why did you save all those?”
“I just told you,” he said with a shrug.
She snorted. “You’re not going to sit down and watch a Nicholas Sparks movie.”
“Maybe I am,” he told her. “The Notebook was pretty damn good.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “You’ve actually seen The Notebook.”
He jabbed his gravy spoon at her. “Only because I was forced. I want to go on record with that. I don’t sit around and watch Nicholas Sparks movies by myself.”
“Why, not enough blood and guts in them?”
“Now you’re getting it,” he answered with a grin, and her heart flipped again.
Yeah, she could totally picture him sprawled out on the couch watching Rambo or maybe one of the Terminator movies. And maybe she’d be curled up next to him with a soft blanket and Piper lying across their laps…
“Okay, but truth time,” she said. “Why do you have all those?”
Cameron continued to stir the gravy before turning the burner to low. Then he pierced her with a look that sent shivers down Audrey’s spine. “Okay, you want the truth? They make me smile. I don’t get enough of that in my life.”
Her insides just about cracked open at his confession. How could he not have enough in his life to make him smile? Everyone needed to smile every once in a while. Cameron had a great one; too good to not be flashing it at everyone he met. Audrey considered it a travesty that more people didn’t get to enjoy that heart-melting grin.
Except Piper. He smiled a lot around Piper. But it was impossible not to be happy around that little girl.
“Okay,” she said.
“That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”
“Did you expect me to mock you?” she questioned.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Actually…”
Audrey was about to give him the mocking he was looking for when she realized he was kidding. The grin tugging at the corners of his mouth gave him away.
See, he smiles for you too.
“They’re quirky and different,” he went on. “I like that about you. It’s refreshing.”
Heat flared across her cheeks at his roundabout compliment. And she’d gotten to know him enough to acknowledge the fact that his words were genuine.
Just tell him. Tell him you don’t want to leave.
But Cameron wouldn’t want to settle down, even if, just last night, he’d told her she was it. He wasn’t that type of guy, and she feared it would only be a matter of time before he tired of her. Hadn’t every other one of her boyfriends done that very thing? Tired of Audrey and moved on to the next hot thing?
“I was just going to say the gravy needs more flour,” she blurted out. Because she couldn’t help herself. Because she was a coward who couldn’t admit to her biggest fear.
“No, it doesn’t,” he responded without even looking at the gravy. “And don’t use my food control issues to distract me.”
“It usually works,” she muttered to herself.
“Not this time,” he muttered back and took a step closer to her. “Now, tell me what’s wrong before I have to coax it out of you.”
Make him coax it out of you. She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re blushing,” he said.
He was close. Too close. As in close enough for her to see the brown flecks in his eyes.
“It’s just hot in here,” she said.
His mouth curled further. “Yeah, it is.” His hungry gaze dropped from her face down her body, touching on all the places where she wanted his hands. Her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Basically everywhere.
“I think the question you should be asking isn’t why I saved all those notes,” Cameron told her. “It should be why you still haven’t said yes to me. What’re you afraid of, Audrey?”
Everything.
She opened her mouth, but the words were stuck in her throat. She was afraid of what he could do to her, and afraid of admitting she was afraid. She’d never opened herself up to a man before, not like the way Cameron was demanding.
She lifted her hand and toyed with the neckline of his T-shirt, momentarily distracted by the strong column of his throat.
“I…don’t really know how to do this,” she admitted.
“Do what?” he pressed.
“Leave myself vulnerable for someone. Especially a man.”
Cameron’s brows lowered a fraction. “Who hurt you?”
She shook her head, then forced the words out. “No one in particular. I just don’t have the best track record with men. Men who…” How could she explain it in a way that she was sure he’d understand?
“Men like me,” he finished for her.
Had she thrown that accusation out at him before? Yeah, she was pretty sure she had. Thinking back now, Audrey realized it had been an unfair thing to say to him. It was a defense mechanism to keep him away, keep him from seeing how vulnerable and scared she was.
“I didn’t mean it the way you think,” she said.
“Yeah, you did.” His hand found its way back to her hair, threading through the strands. “But it’s okay. You’ve been burned in the past by guys like me, so you’re gun-shy. Nothing wrong with that.”
She dropped her gaze to this throat. “That’s why I had such a hard time when I saw Tessa here. I was brought back to every other guy I’d been with. It opened a wound I thought had closed.”
“Understandable,” he agreed. Then he lowered his head so he could see her eyes. “And maybe a little jealous?” he asked, as though hopeful.
“Don’t push it,” she warned.
He pinched her chin. “Come on, you know you were a little jealous.”
“Do you want me to be?” she countered.
“You’re the one who said it was truth time.”
“Yeah, but we weren’t talking about this,” she pointed out. You can’t expect him to be brutally honest, if you’re going to hold back. Audrey wanted to smack her inner voice upside the head for being so damn sensible. She blew out a breath and admitted defeat, something she did a lot around this man. “Okay, maybe a small part of me wanted to scratch her eyes out.”
Cameron’s half grin became full-blown. “There it is.”
“Do I get a gold star now?” she teased.
“How about a kiss instead?” he murmured.
His mouth hovered just above hers, close enough to feel his hot breath, and Audrey had to hold herself back from jumping on him, from sliding her tongue in his mouth before she had a chance to second-guess herself.
“I think I’d rather have the gold star instead,” she whispered back.
His mouth slid along hers; then he grinned against her. “Liar.”
Audrey’s lips parted just slightly, inviting him in, when the sliding door was thrown open. Piper came running in, wild hair flying around her face, shoes untied and cheeks pink.
Cameron had already moved back before Audrey even realized they’d been interrupted.
“Audrey, guess what Pinkie Pie just did?” the little girl asked. “She saw a bird, then climbed up the tree to try and catch it.”
“Is she stuck?” Cameron wanted to know, as though he hadn’t been about to shove his tongue in Audrey’s mouth.
Piper switched her attention to her uncle and shook her head. “No, she jumped down. But she’s all dirty with leaves and bark and stuff.”
“She jumped?” Audrey repeated.
Piper hopped on both feet. “Yeah, and she landed on all four of her feet. Isn’t that cool?” Then Piper was gone, running out the door as fast as she’d appeared.
She and Cameron exchanged a glance, but his expression didn’t mirror her amused one. His eyes were hot and dark and the pulse at the base of his neck was hammering. Audrey’s smile slipped as she remembered the way he’d been about to kiss her.
One of these days they weren’t going to stop at just kissing. And then she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to save herself.